


Things Change, Things Stay the Same

by InterstellarVagabond



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale talks about falling, Crowley has feelings about it, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 09:42:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19423402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InterstellarVagabond/pseuds/InterstellarVagabond
Summary: Aziraphale makes it clear, he doesn't care what form he has to take to stay with Crowley. The demon himself has complicated feelings about the issue.





	Things Change, Things Stay the Same

**Author's Note:**

> A little inspired by this just gorgeous and heartwrenching comic: https://quadlinda.tumblr.com/post/185711301343/i-believe-aziraphale-is-really-afraid-to-become-a
> 
> Now in podfic form too!!!!! https://columbiasgreatestminds.tumblr.com/post/186261740691/this-is-my-first-audio-drama-in-over-three-years

Crowley killed the engine and removed his sunglasses, folding them carefully in his hands. It had started to rain, and the windows of the Bentley were soon covered in sliding water droplets. He didn’t open the door, and it wasn’t because of the rain. 

Aziraphale was sitting in the passenger seat, looking out the window at the rain, and his silence spoke of a conversation soon to come.

“Crowley,” he said, turning to face him. “I think…”

His hand bridged the distance between them, coming to lay over one of Crowley’s. 

“I think I’m happy,” Aziraphale said.

“That took some puzzling out, did it?” Crowley said, head lazily turning towards Aziraphale.

“Just listen,” Aziraphale said. “I’m happy, like this, with you. I know we’ve talked about how long this reprieve might last, when we might be called back to duty or doom depending on how they feel about us back home… but I don’t think I particularly care.”

“What are you saying… exactly?” Crowley asked, knowing full well what he was saying but hoping there was still a chance for him to take it back.

“I’m saying I don’t very much care if I’m an angel or… or not.” Aziraphale turned fully in his seat, and squeezed Crowley’s hand lightly. With the gray of rain behind him, the angel looked more ethereal there in the passenger’s seat with one of Crowley’s coats around his shoulders than he’d ever looked in heaven with snow white wings and a halo. “I’m happy here with you on earth and I don’t care what form I must take to be here with you.”

Crowley turned away quickly, pressing a fist to his mouth and staring out the window. Aziraphale waited a moment, and then he turned Crowley’s face back towards him with a gentle hand.

Crowley felt that hand on his face, soft and warm. He was avoiding Aziraphale’s eyes, but if he looked he would see tender dedication shining in them. He couldn’t look though.

Did he deserve this? After all he had done, after all his sins? After all the times he’d yelled at Aziraphale because he was scared the angel would leave and had no idea what to do but to yell at him once begging failed to work.

Aziraphale had been so sure he could just speak with God, that there would be no need to run off together. The certainty of an angel who hadn’t yet realized the extent of the corruption above, an angel who would try without faltering to fix things even after he did. How could he take that from him?

Selfishly, maybe, because he loved him, wanted him, and needed him there.

“Crowley.”

He had been hesitating too long, but that wasn’t why Aziraphale said his name. The angel’s face had fallen into a look of concern, and his hand lifted to wipe the tears starting to flow from Crowley’s eyes. 

Crowley leaned into the hand. He thought to himself, that whether he kept his angel or made him leave for his own good, right now he would have this. Not because he deserved it, but because he wanted it. He told himself it was the nature of a demon to want something even when it might mean pain for someone else, and yet guilt tore at him thinking of Aziraphale twisted from his holy shape into something… something like him. Fangs and animal eyes and that dark thing inside him that always threatened to push him just a little bit farther. 

“You’re thinking too loudly, my dear,” Aziraphale said, and a quiet sob caught in Crowley’s throat as he turned his face towards Aziraphale’s palm. “I’ve made a decision. You don’t have to look so tortured. You didn’t trick me into this, didn’t tempt me. I just decided.”

“It hurts,” Crowley warned him. “It never stops hurting.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Aziraphale joked. “I’m sure you’d be less sore if you didn’t insist on sleeping in such bizarre contortions.” 

Crowley’s tears broke with a laugh, and a very undemonlike sniffle. “You’d make a good demon, always were just a little too materialistic.”

“Do you think I’d look good in black?” Aziraphale winked.

“You… don’t actually have to change your aesthetic, that’s just… I mean yeah, you would though,” Crowley rambled. “You look pretty good in it right now.” he gestured to the coat he had draped over Aziraphale’s shoulders when they’d fled from restaurant to car in the rain. 

“Well, then there’s nothing to cry about, is there?”Aziraphale said, running his thumb over the last of the tears. “Seems like a good arrangement to me.”

“How do you always do this to me?” Crowley asked. “You should have been the demon all along with the way you just… excel at twisting heartstrings.”

“I’m very kind!” Aziraphale huffed defensively. 

“Yeah, those yelp reviews of your bookshop always highlight how cheerful and generous you are,” Crowley said.

“That website does the driving away for me, I really should send them a nice fruit basket or something,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley laughed. The angel was so ridiculous. A ridiculous person with too many books who ran up the bill whenever they went out to eat, who wore reading glasses when he didn’t need them and always insisted on making a mug for each of them whenever he fixed himself a hot drink. Crowley wanted to spend eternity with this ridiculous person.

“Let’s go inside,” he said. “I’ll let you massage the soreness from my ‘contortions’ out of me.” 

Aziraphale laughed, and they left the car together. 

Crowley was surprised when no raindrops landed on him. He looked up and saw Aziraphale holding an umbrella over his head. The angel himself was getting soaking wet, and smiling. Six thousand years, and they were just like they always were. Yet somehow, so very different.


End file.
